Power Play
by Rambles12
Summary: Story is AU: Oliver Queen is a professional hockey player for the NY Highlanders (think Rangers) and he's had a recent bout of bad PR. Team owner Walter Steele hires an acquaintance's daughter, Felicity Smoak, to help spiff up his Captain's now tarnished image, however, this story goes much deeper. Intrigue, danger, and emotions run high.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard musical notes.

They got louder.

And louder.

Clearing the fuzzy cobwebs from his half-asleep brain he realized two things, his phone was ringing...and there was someone draped over his body - who was just as naked as he was.

_Shit._

It had been a looooong time since he'd been in this predicament. In fact, the past few years he'd more or less left his playboy image behind having found "the one." Laurel wasn't like the various puck bunnies who preceded her, she was in a league of her own. In fact, he'd actually given serious thoughts to proposing...and then he got cold feet. Showing her true colors, she then went and slept with his best friend Tommy.

_Screw them both._

Flailing his arm, Oliver Queen inwardly applauded his success at making contact with the offending cell phone.

Slowly he pried one very dry, very irritated eye open to look at the time on it's display.

6:00am.

If he remembered correctly, that meant he had about 2 hours of sleep. He wanted to beat someone - but off the ice that was frowned upon.

With the limited strength he had, he gazed at the name on his screen. Slade Wilson, Head Coach of Oliver's employer, the National Hockey League's New York Highlanders.

It didn't take a Mensa membership to know why Slade was calling. Their leader had been out with the rest of the guys the night before to celebrate their over-time win over the Capitals - but only for the first hour - and he was afraid Oliver would screw up his already precarious position with the team. He was expected on the ice in 90 minutes. It was merely a practice day, but Oliver couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect after his recent 'indiscretions.'

He'd been made a "healthy scratch" two months ago after he found out about Laurel and Tommy and had gotten so plowed he missed a team lunch and an interview with CBS sports due to one spectacular hangover. He'd begged forgiveness, taken full responsibility and swore to team owner and father figure - Walter Steele - that nothing like that would ever happen again.

And then a month ago he was arrested for public indecency when he was caught relieving himself on the tires of Tommy's car...only it wasn't Tommy's...it was Tommy's Dad's.

Who owned the New Jersey Devils.

_Whoops._

They both had the same damn 'custom' Aston Martin, not that he even remembered doing it.

_Whatever._

Delaying wouldn't help. He attempted to clear his throat before answering, though it barely made a dent in his NextDayHangover voice, "Hey Slade, I'm already dressed and on my way -"

"Don't give me your lying shit, Queen, get out from under the imitation redhead and get your ass to the Garden. Steele wants to meet with you before you even lace up. He's seriously pissed and plans on 'teaching you a lesson.'"

Pushing up on one elbow while trying not to disturb the slumbering aforementioned redhead, Oliver questioned, "What the hell does that mean, I haven't done anything - "

"Don't want to hear your excuses, be here in 30 minutes, you'll get the details then."

_Click_

* * *

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Smoak." Walter Steele smiled at his recently acquired Public Relations expert. She'd be working for his PR director on a pet project no one else wanted to touch - nor had time for since they'd been tied up with other issues.

He'd trusted the advice of an acquaintance and hired his daughter for this job, though he'd be remiss not to question the contrasting awkward young woman before him with her very public job requirements. If she stuttered when nervous with him, how the hell would she deal with the canabilistic media?

"Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Steele." She pushed her black-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "And I promise you, I know how to deal with them."

_Had she read his mind?_ "Excuse me?"

Pointing at her new boss sitting across his mahogany desk from her, "It's your body language, Sir. I can tell you're probably wondering how I can possibly be an asset to your team."

_Yes, yes I am._ "Of course not, I trust your father."

Smiling with obvious disbelief, "No, you don't, you know him too well." Felicity swiped at an imaginary piece of dust on her lap before re-engaging Steele with direct and pointed eye contact. "But you will trust me. I am not what you'd expect professionally, but I can promise you I will deliver the results you need."

Steele couldn't help but smile, he tried to keep the patronizing father-look from his gaze. "I believe you will." Unsure exactly what role she'd played in the...incidents, Walter added, "I've seen your other work, I know what you did for the Congressman last year."

He may have been accused of being a self-absorbed billionaire, but Steele didn't miss Felicity's minuscule but still present flinch at the congressman's mention.

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Felicity responded, "Thank you. I'm pleased you've followed my work." Felicity took a deep breath before continuing, painting her best I-am-completely-fine-no-worries-here smile on her face. "And I plan on taking the same resolve and dedication to the Highlanders. In as little as 6 months - maybe a few more - they'll be THE most respected team in the NHL - both on and off the ice."

Walter sighed, torn between owner and a man who could easily sense sadness, "You know, Felicity, there is no harm in admitting you may be hurting -"

_Knock. Knock_

Both turned to see Walter's ever-competent assistant enter, "Mr. Steele," she acknowledged her boss first before nodding to Felicity, "Ms. Smoak." Stepping to the side to allow someone else to enter, she announced, "Mr. Queen, is here."

Felicity had seen his pictures and interviews, even watched him play a few times, but up close and personal? _Da-yum. _ Maybe she should have worn a more fashionable suit today, and heels... done her hair.

Mentally slapping herself in the head, she regrouped. Shooting upright, she took what she hoped were no-nonsense steps toward him with her hand outstretched -

...and he walked right by her.

Barely registering the woman in the room - which was highly unusual for him - Oliver marched straight for his boss. "Walter, listen, I haven't done anything -"

"Except be horribly rude." As Walter stood and rounded his desk, he gestured to the woman Oliver just had the audacity to ignore, "This is Ms. Smoak."

Irritated that his conversation with Walter was being delayed - but also at himself because he usually wasn't that much of an ass, he did have manners - he finally turned to give the woman his attention.

She was cute...if you liked that wide-eyed innocent thing.

Which he didn't.

Oliver reached out to take her still dangling hand. "Ms. Smoak, please to meet you, I'm -"

"Hot-" shaking her head she, stammered, "O-on the ice, you're on a hot streak right now Mr. Queen, I know who you are."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes slightly squinted in concentration as the corner of his mouth began to lift, "Thank you, Ms. Smoak," he extricated his hand from hers, "and call me Oliver."

"Thank you, Felicity," she shook her head again in embarrassed frustration, "I mean you can do the same - call me Felicity." She laughed, desperately trying to think of a way to regain the professional persona she'd practiced during the car ride to the Garden.

With a quick inhalation of breath, Oliver turned back to Walter and Felicity got the distinct impression she'd been dismissed.

"Listen, Walter, like I was saying -"

"No Oliver, you listen."

Turning to pick up the copy of the Daily News from his desk, Walter held it up for Oliver's review. There on the cover was a shot of him from the night before - with the woman he'd left less than an hour ago.

His hand was tucked mysteriously up the back of her skirt.

Hers on the fly of his pants.

As if that wasn't enough, Oliver winced at their oh-so-convenient placement.

They'd been playing tonsil hockey outside a subway entrance, oblivious to any onlookers with their cell phones handy. Next to them was a giant public service announcement featuring Elmo that read, "Tickles make me giggle..." but their bodies blocked the rest of the statement encouraging young children to read.

_Shit._

Seeing the gravity of Oliver's 'third strike' settling in, Walter continued, "You came to the organization at just 19 years-old and never left. In all of those years I've never traded you, always took care of you at contract time - hell, you even introduced me to your beautiful mother and now you and I will be spending Thanksgiving together. But I can't deal with this anymore, you need to get yourself together."

Oliver hung his head with a sigh, tucking his hands in the pockets of his suit pants - the same ones he'd obviously been wearing the night before.

After a moment of reflection he lifted his head about to speak then abruptly stopped. With a pointed look at Walter, he tilted his head toward the woman he'd just met, silently indicating this should be a private conversation.

With an almost affectionate smile, Walter responded to Oliver's unspoken request, "She stays, Ollie, and you might as well get used to her." His grin broadened. "You two will be spending a great deal of time together."

Confusion knit Oliver's brows, "What?"

Walter's large frame took contrastingly graceful steps to return behind his desk. "Ms. Smoak has been hired as part of our PR team, and she has one specific job - at least to start with."

The often intimidating owner of the New York Highlanders had a grin that positively illuminated the room. "You."

* * *

"How did it go?"

Walter barely made it through the front door of Moira's palatial Westchester home before Oliver's mother pounced.

Chuckling he teased, "I'm happy to see you too, Honey."

With a self-deprecating smile, Moira corrected herself, "Sorry, you know I worry about him."

Affectionately, Walter swept her hair over her shoulders before pulling Moira in for a hug, placing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I know, but I have a feeling this recent bout of...mistakes is very temporary for Oliver, he's way too driven."

Moira relaxed into his embrace, while she had felt this way about Oliver's behaviors, it was comforting to know Walter truly believed this as well. "I just don't get it, he hasn't acted like this since he was 20. He was never a saint but he'd learned discretion," her features soured, "And for the past few years with Laurel he's been positively boring."

The way she uttered the name of Oliver's ex with such disdain mirrored Walter's thoughts. No one in Oliver's close circle had really liked the woman. Sure she was polite, refined, even beautiful; but she was also stiff, remote, and apparently faithless. Oliver's father - who'd died when he was 15 - had raised him to be a gentleman, so Oliver never said a word otherwise, he'd let the media rip him to shreds.

Laurel Lance had been America's Sweetheart, an actress in numerous B movies - the queen of RomCom - so when she cried on tabloid TV that Oliver cheated on her, most of the country believed her. His subsequent exploits didn't help, especially last night's.

Typically Walter didn't care about the personal lives of his players, as long as they performed on the ice, he was happy. And while some would suspect Moira played a role in his recent chastising of Oliver, that was only partially true. Oliver was the team's captain, he wore the C on his jersey and by definition, that meant he should lead, he should set the example - and normally he did.

Walter couldn't afford to have his team fall apart because his captain was. He needed to get Oliver back to the man he knew he was and it needed to happen quick. He had too many other potential problems on the team if he didn't - like Roy Harper, the kid made Tyler Sequin look like a choirboy, his antics were already giving his PR team grey hairs.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he refocused on Moira, "Roger's daughter, Felicity, is on the case, she feels she has something to prove as the youngest member of our PR team, so I have a feeling Oliver won't have a choice but to toe the line."

With a sigh Moira pulled from their embrace, ultimately coming to rest by the window that overlooked her perfectly manicured entryway. "I hope so, I just can't help but shake the feeling there is a bit more to this." She paused as if in thought, her eyes distant. "This just isn't like Oliver."

Offering a comforting touch, Walter rested his hands on her shoulders from behind. "He'll be fine, I'm sure of it," giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance before hesitantly moving to a different topic, Walter questioned, "What do you know of Felicity Smoak?"

Brows pulled in confusion, Moira turned to face him, "Just that she's Roger's daughter." Sifting through any relevant memories Moira added, "I vaguely remember her as a child before her mother died and they moved, she was shy like her - I never quite got what that sweet woman saw in Roger. The man has never been kind."

Walter grimaced and she rushed to apologize, "Sorry, I know he's a friend of yours."

After a deep breath Walter responded, "Acquaintance is probably a better term, we've done business together through the years and really, I only kept in touch with him over the last few because of his political connections, having a Senator on your side never hurts."

Thinking of the shy girl she'd known at 6, and the woman who was now to be her son's shadow, Moira couldn't help but question, "Are you sure about that?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews! I know AU can be tough for some to get into so I appreciate everyone who has made the effort. I apologize for any errors in this chapter, I just simply don't have enough time to do all of the editing I'd like to. And don't get too thrown off by the PR angle of the story, it won't be the focus for too long as the story will have more drama soon. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

John Diggle was an enforcer on the ice. Bring the puck into his zone, and he'd introduce your face to the glass and your body to the boards. The brutal impact would reverberate throughout the Garden. Though at this moment, it wasn't that particular crowd-pleasing sound echoing through the Player's Lounge, it was his booming laughter.

"Oliver my man, you are your own worst enemy, you know that?"

The two sat slumped in over-stuffed chairs, physically exhausted from their grueling practice. Oliver had asked to speak to Diggle after they'd showered and dressed, which led them here, sipping protein water in the team's lounge.

The room looked like an exclusive country club 'men's only' cigar room; Forrest green walls, gleaming dark wood wainscoting and matching ceiling trim, even the various assorted chairs and tables screamed _manly-man_. Like everything else in hockey, the lounge had a nickname, The Sac, because most players sat relaxed and scratching theirs while in it.

Clearly displeased with his best friend and Assistant Captain, Oliver merely glared at him in response.

Diggle - a 6'4, 250 pound wall of muscle - was not intimidated. "Seriously, you know I'm always on your side, Ollie, but you've been epically stupid lately and getting assigned a babysitter is well-deserved."

This wasn't the response Oliver had been hoping for. He tipped his head back, resting it on the back of his chair while his eyes scanned the ceiling. "You were supposed to say you'd talk to Walter for me."

The truth was, Diggle didn't like the way his friend had been behaving, and while he wasn't sure this was the smartest way to address it, he was happy something was being done. "And say what Ollie?"

Oliver sighed, frustrated at Diggle, frustrated at Walter, but truth be told, royally pissed-off at himself. "Never mind, you talking to Walter wouldn't make a difference. This is my crap to clean up."

Diggle's expression softened, he hated seeing his best friend go through this but didn't know how to help. "Just play nice. Do what Walter asks, do what this Felicity woman says and just be done with it."

Unable to keep still in mind or body, Oliver leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He watched the remaining contents of his protein water swirl as it dangled from his grasp.

Not able to even muster a verbal response, Oliver simply nodded in reluctant agreement.

Trying to find any kind of silver-lining, Diggle asked, "So what is this Felicity Smoak like?"

Knowing his friend was making an effort to try and find some positives, Oliver made an attempt to snap out of his melancholy. He thought back to meeting the woman a few hours ago.

"Blonde, blue-eyed ... awkward." He sighed, "I could probably make her life miserable, she doesn't seem to have a backbone."

The side of Diggle's mouth hitched, knowing his friend. "But you won't, so what are you going to do?"

Oliver half-heartedly smiled, "Mostly avoid her, do the bare minimum until Walter calls her off -"

"Calls who off?" Roy Harper, left wing and current number-one party-boy of the Highlanders stopped as he was passing through the Player's Lounge - adjusting its namesake and wearing that red hoodie he wore everywhere.

Oliver groaned. Roy may currently be occupying the top spot on Walter's _"Players I Want to Strangle"_ list, but he really didn't want the rookie knowing he'd secured a spot on that list as well.

Attempting to throw him off the scent, Oliver chastised, "You were about 2 seconds slow on every play today, Harper. Go home and get some rest."

Roy bit back a smart-ass comment about his Captain's photo-spread in the Daily News. He may be a "rookie" but he was doing his best to learn restraint. Then there was the fact that he was kind of in awe of Oliver. No matter what happened in the guy's personal life, he was unstoppable on the ice.

"Will do, Cap." Not able to fully restrain himself, he had to at least allude to the pictures, "That's a nice suit you're wearing."

Oliver's eyes slowly lifted to his least favorite winger, knowing full well the punk was referring to the fact he was wearing the same clothes from the night before - the kid must have seen the pictures.

Oliver stood, barely containing his irritation. He took a few steps toward Roy who had the good sense to take a few steps back.

Then, in sudden contrast to his black mood, Oliver came to a jarring stop.

And his smile spread.

One second he was ready to punch the kid, and the next he was positively giddy with a new thought. Oliver had been so involved in his own drama, he'd been somewhat remiss in his off-ice ... responsibilities.

The season started weeks ago and they'd yet to haze the rookies.

Not ready to share his new thought with Roy, he feigned disinterest in the rookie's taunting. "Thanks Roy, maybe one day when you grow up, you can buy one too."

Roy swallowed. He just watched some weird transformation in Oliver from scary to eerily happy and it made him _very _uncomfortable.

Seeing discomfort in the kid - and remembering all too well what it was like to be the young-gun on the team - Oliver used his free hand to playfully cuff Roy on the shoulder. "I'm just teasing; I deserve a little crap this morning. No hard feelings."

Roy's sigh was audible, his body slumping with relief. He even managed a smile at his Captain's teasing. "You scared me there for a second." Feeling the need to make sure they were okay, Roy added. "You know I look up to you. I know you can teach me a lot and I really look forward to -"

With an eye-roll, Oliver turned to place his protein water on one of the many nearby tables. "Quit while you're ahead, Harper, no one likes a kiss-ass."

Diggle had stayed out of the exchange until now, seeing his chance to further smooth the waters by pretending to align with the rookie - he took his shot at Oliver. "Seriously Harper, I mean come on, we all saw the paper and we know it isn't Ollie's ass he likes kissed."

Roy laughed, grateful for the assistant captain taking a little heat off of him.

Oliver was even amused. In fact, in years past he was known to be a team prankster.

Which reminded him...

"Alright Roy, Diggle and I have to talk about some stuff for tomorrow's game, get lost." Then he snapped his fingers in that universal gesture of suddenly remembering something you forgot. "And don't forget to valet your car for morning skate; they're doing construction on the player's lot so the valets will park your car."

Not wanting to admit he didn't remember this, Roy acted like it was old news, "Yeah, sure, no problem."

With a wave, the 20-something left.

Diggle looked at Oliver and raised his brows, silently inquiring what that last exchange was about. When all he got in response from Oliver was an evil grin he finally asked, "They aren't doing construction, why do you want him to valet his car?"

Feigning a somber attitude, Oliver placed his hand on Diggle's shoulders, "We've let our new players down, Diggle." He tilted his head to the side as if pondering something serious, "I can't let that go on. Our rookies need some welcoming, and nothing says welcome to the NHL like a little hazing."

And just like that, the evil grin was back.

Diggle instantly became apprehensive, "Do I even want to know what you're thinking, Oliver?"

Oliver removed his hand from Diggle's shoulder to pull his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Scrolling, he hit the contact he wanted to call before holding up his index finger, indicating Diggle should hold his thoughts for a minute.

When his assistant answered, Oliver set his plan in motion. "Hello Marcie, best assistant in the world," he laughed, she clearly had said something caustic, "No, I'm not buttering you up...okay, maybe I am."

Diggle tried to get his attention again; Oliver waved him off and continued on. "I need your help, is there any way you can get me like 500 condoms by tonight?"

Now Diggle really tried to get his attention, motioning for Ollie to stop talking by drawing a hand across his own neck but Oliver was having too much fun.

"Yes, Marcie, I need 500 condoms, I have big plans."

Diggle gave up trying to be subtle and grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, turning him to face the door Roy had just left through.

And his eyes met Felicity Smoak's.

Casually leaning against the door jamb with her arms folded, the irritating woman simply raised her brows in question before mockingly mouthing _"500?"_

Oliver ended his call. "Gotta go, Marcie, I'll call you back later."

Diggle had been with the Highlanders for 8 years, he knew everyone in the organization so by process of elimination, this must be Felicity Smoak. He also knew his best friend needed a second to re-group.

Walking to the woman, Diggle extended his hand, "Hello Ms. Smoak, I'm John Diggle."

Felicity had done her homework, she knew all the players and by contrast to Oliver Queen's antics, Diggle was a family man. Married, three kids, house in suburbia, he was the least of her worries which made an unconscious warmth emanate from her to him.

"It's wonderful to meet you, I know a great deal about you Mr. Diggle." Releasing his hand, she took a few steps further into the room. "Besides being one hell of a Defensemen, you're a PR girls' fantasy; great Dad, loyal husband, total stand-up guy."

Diggle all but blushed, uncomfortable with the praise. "Thanks, but call me John."

She nodded, "Please do the same, it's Felicity."

For some reason Oliver found himself irritated by the lovefest before him. His voice held a slight edge as he directed his question at their new guest, "Were you looking for me?"

Bringing her gaze to his as if she'd forgotten he was there, Felicity answered. "Oh - sorry, yes. I was hoping we could meet for a bit before you left. There are some things I want to discuss with you."

Oliver checked his Rolex.

Felicity became inexplicably irritated by the gesture, she wasn't sure if it was the flashy Rolex, or the implication she was keeping him from something more important. Her tone may have been a bit scolding when she added, "I know you've got 'big plans' for tonight, but I'm relatively certain anything involving you and 500 condoms cannot be good."

That's it, now he was angry, it wasn't her words, it was her tone. He wasn't a 6 year-old who needed a time out.

Stepping just a fraction too close, he tried to intimidate the little nun. "Oh, I don't know Ms. Smoak, I've been told when condoms are involved, the things I do are very, _very_ good."

Oh-for-Pete-Sake, how did she do these things to herself? Desperate not to allow her mind to go there, she tried to think of something painful, totally distracting. Sticking a fork in her eye!

Except her body naturally reacted, closing the one eye she'd just imagined poking.

Oliver pulled back, confusion stamped in his features, she was supposed to cower. "Did you just wink at me?"

"No!" Felicity took several steps back, "It was my contact, my contacts are bothering me."

Oliver scowled in disbelief. "You're wearing glasses."

Flailing her hands dismissively, she retorted. "I just meant I thought my contact was bothering me, I forgot about the glasses, something must have been in my eye."

Watching this show with his mouth open, Diggle finally regained his composure. He'd been shocked by his friend's obvious sexual innuendo used to intimidate - that wasn't Oliver's style, and completely confused by the duos clear dislike for each other when neither knew the other.

"Ah, hey you two, here's an idea, why don't you start again."

Grasping at anything, Felicity faced Diggle. "Wonderful idea, John."

She turned her attention back to the man who could make or break her career and took a deep, clarifying, long breath.

"Mr. Queen, let's just ... move on." Felicity motioned to a nearby table and chairs, indicating they should sit.

Having no idea what just happened - and not really sure he wanted to; Oliver took the olive branch the woman offered and joined her at the table.

The sooner he played nice and got this over with, the sooner she'd be out of his life.

* * *

After John Diggle's not so subtle departure - he clapped Oliver on the shoulder and told him to 'play nice' before leaving - Felicity took a moment to ground herself before beginning.

Oliver stared.

Felicity stared right back.

As the silence stretched on, Oliver sighed in annoyance, checking his watch again.

It took all Felicity had not to kick his shin with the point of her shoe. He hadn't chosen to sit across the table from her; rather he sat next to her, turning his chair to face hers.

Taking yet another deep, cleansing breath - something she sensed she'd be doing a lot around this frustrating man - Felicity painted a smile on her face. "Mr. Queen -"

"It's Oliver, we discussed this earlier today."

Biting back a retort at his condescending tone, Felicity responded, "Right. In that case, _Oliver_, let's start again."

Suddenly just too tired to continue sniping, Felicity's posture deflated with fatigue. She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her tone, "We are on the same side here, we want the same things."

Oliver doubted that. He wanted to be left alone. She wanted to be in his face 24/7 making him do tricks for the media. Still, he could tell the woman was making a genuine effort and it wasn't her fault Walter hired her.

Resigned, Oliver nodded as his body relaxed as well. "I know. And I apologize Ms. Smoak."

At the use of her formal full name, she quirked and eyebrow and smiled, reminding him of his 'earlier conversation' snark from two seconds ago.

He couldn't help but lightly laugh, "Sorry, I meant Felicity."

For the first time he saw her _true_ smile, it transformed her already cute features into so much more.

The woman was beautiful.

Not that it mattered, entanglements of any kind were the last thing he needed - especially with _this_ woman.

Returning his focus to the task at hand, Oliver questioned, "Exactly what did Walter say was your job?"

Hating to break their semi-truce, but sensing he needed her to be honest, Felicity laid it out for him. "He wants you back as "the face" of the organization. Right now he feels like he has to hide you because of your recent headlines. They make you fodder for trashy magazines and mockery - which in turn affects the team's image and ultimately, their ticket sales."

Oliver frowned, "I hardly believe my personal life affects ticket sales."

"Ah, but it will." Felicity pushed her glasses back up her nose, "You see you set the tone. Walter told me both Roy Harper and Derek Kraig have showed up to morning skate hungover - twice in the last 10 days."

Oliver waved a dismissive hand, "But that is no reason to hire someone like you. I know I have to set the tone. I know the young guys look up to me and as the Captain and I need to fly right."

Felicity tilted her head to the side, sympathy etched in her features as well as the unspoken question of '_then why aren't you?_'

Irritated at his own inability to answer that question, Oliver stood and began to pace. He knew he'd been acting stupid, Walter had already told him to get his shit together weeks ago and he hadn't.

Knowing they didn't have enough of a relationship, Felicity didn't push for an answer to her silent question, instead she tried to motivate him. "This downturn you've been on has thankfully been short-lived, so provided you don't continue it, we should be able to turn things around quick."

Oliver glanced briefly in her direction but continued to pace.

Hating to ask but needing to, she pushed. "Any chance Laurel will stop her public passive-aggressive smear campaign?"

The annoying actress had taken to Twitter making incessant references to 'someone' who treated her badly, and how 'his' recent behavior showed the world 'his true colors.'

Oliver did not react how Felicity expected him to when she spoke of his ex and her recent exploits. She thought he'd bite her head off. Instead he shrugged, seemingly unaffected by either mention.

She guessed it made sense. After all, Oliver had cheated on the woman. Maybe letting her publicly rant was his way of making amends.

_Men were assholes._

Not wanting her personal life to affect her professional life, _again_, Felicity did her best to push her own painful thoughts aside and continued on. "I'm going to call her publicist tomorrow, see if we can arrange a cease-fire."

Oliver laughed but the sound held no humor. "Good luck with that."

Not able to fully contain her 'men are assholes' reaction, Felicity prodded, "Why so resigned? Exactly how many women did you sleep with while you were dating her?"

Her snap judgment completely ticked him off.

Oliver's response was laced with bitter sarcasm and he layered in some theatrical drama for good measure. "Hundreds, maybe thousands, Felicity." He walked back toward the table, standing over her as he finished, "You know us professional athletes; women in every city, different one every night."

While his posture was relaxed - hands in his pockets, Felicity could _feel_ the restrained anger under his surface. Something wasn't right. Why go from indifference to outright hostility when the topic hadn't changed?

She'd been in the business long enough to know things aren't always what they appear.

"If we are going to be working together on this, Oliver, I need to know what I am dealing with. What happened with you two?"

Oliver simply stared, not even blinking as he took slow, measured breaths.

Felicity watched the muscle of his jaw tick.

She'd read about the last several years of Oliver's life. He appeared to be the devoted boyfriend, accompanying his gorgeous girlfriend to every red carpet event but standing off to the side, never taking the limelight. Spending time with the actress' family, even sacrificing time with his own to be with hers. He was known to use his rare days off to visit her wherever she was.

Suddenly clarity struck. It all made sense now, his spiral downward, his remoteness.

Felicity shot to standing, nearly knocking Oliver over in the process.

"_She_ cheated on _you_, didn't she?" Not waiting for his answer, her mind began churning out plans, "I will crucify her in the press."

Oliver was momentarily speechless, not simply because the woman had been one of the few who'd figured it out - and he was oddly satisfied she did - but because she seemed genuinely _angry_ for him. She was a virtual stranger and yet she seemed ready to throw down.

Finding his voice again, Oliver felt the need to calm her even while confirming her suspicions. "Relax, I don't care about her lying."

"Well I do! Who does that? Does she not have a conscience?"

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle at her staunch defense of him, "I appreciate your outrage, I do," he decided to set the tone and displayed total calm, "but it just doesn't matter anymore."

He gestured to the seat she had been occupying moments before and sat back down himself. "Let's just get back to discussing what I have to do."

Slowly she sat, not quite understanding. "Of course it matters, why are you letting her get away with this?"

He shrugged, "It happened months ago now, but my current problem is my own stupid behavior."

"B-but she's still lying about you every chance she gets!"

Oliver was beginning to think this must have struck a chord with the woman; she was a bit too adamant in his defense.

He made a mental note to have someone look into her background a bit.

Without thinking he reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I truly don't care what she has to say at this point. My friends and family all support me and that's all that matters."

He withdrew his hand, realizing too late that it was a bizarrely intimate thing to do to someone he worked with - never mind one he'd just met.

Felicity knew he'd said something, so she nodded like she agreed, but in reality, as soon as his large, warm hand wrapped around hers, the only thing she was aware of was how oddly _nice _it felt.

Which was both shocking, and colossally stupid.

The last time she let herself enjoy an attraction she got burned, badly. That wouldn't be happening again, _especially_ with someone she worked with.

Forcefully pushing those thoughts from her head, she returned to business. "Well, I guess if you're okay with it than I will be too - for now." She couldn't help but take one last parting shot at his ex, "But I gotta say, this is by far the best acting I've ever seen that woman do."

Oliver's laugh was loud and genuine, it felt almost rusty since it had been so long, but it also felt really, _really_ good.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: _Sorry I am not a quick updater at this point. I'm a working Mom and fanfiction is something I do for fun, so most of the time I am squeezing it in between hockey games, soccer games, lunch packing, clothes washing, dinner making, work, school activities etc. Thanks to all of you who have left feedback and sent me private messages. I am very grateful to all of you who take the time to read. Thanks!_

* * *

John and Lyla Diggle had been married for ten years, something nearly unheard of in professional sports. They were also the proud parents of 8 year-old twin girls and a 5 year-old boy. Their successful careers paired with his extensive travel schedule meant they had to be creative with the time they did have together. They also had a set of rules they lived by, and the most important was absolutely _no _secrets between them.

This was why Lyla - who was currently watching the Highlanders annihilate the Devils - knew she was staring at the back of Felicity Smoak's head.

The previous day John had returned home from The Garden deep in thought and Lyla, being the observant wife and therapist by trade, asked what was on his mind. John detailed for her what he'd witnessed in the player's lounge - namely Oliver's out of character behavior toward the Highlander's newest hire.

Lyla was instantly curious.

For too long they'd seen the light go out in John's best friend. Truth be told, they had been somewhat relieved to see Oliver's recent antics, he was showing signs of life again.

The 'Laurel Years' had been...difficult for them to watch. The longer he had dated her, the more he became flat, almost one dimensional. They'd supported him and befriended Laurel, but they just never felt connected to her. They sensed they were losing the Oliver they knew and loved. Sure they were still close, but he just wasn't the same. He had always been funny, charismatic, and personable; but when he was with her this all faded, dulled.

Not knowing why Oliver responded so strongly to the team's new PR rep, but intrigued enough to want to know more, Lyla did what all normal people do when their interest is piqued - she Googled the young woman.

Lyla had discovered Felicity was a Senator's daughter...and beautiful, which only intrigued her further. The young lady didn't share her famous father's last name so the connection wasn't immediately apparent; somewhere along the lines she'd taken her deceased mother's maiden name. An act of defiance? An emotional tribute?

Lyla also discovered Felicity's previous job had been in politics, she had worked for New York Congressman Sebastian Blood. Lyla remembered the man had been involved in some murky scandal a few months ago. Surprisingly the press never fully uncovered what had happened. All the public knew was at the height of his reelection campaign, several of his closest staffers suddenly quit, Felicity being one of them. The Congressman had spun it to imply his fleeing staffers were the problem, but few believed it. Still, the man managed to get into office.

Knowing her internal dialogue was getting her no further, Lyla decided to take action. Reaching out, she tapped the shoulder of the energetic woman in front of her.

Jumping at the unexpected touch, Felicity turned around. "Yes?"

Lyla smiled apologetically, "Sorry to startle you, but I wanted to introduce myself," she reached out her hand, "I'm Lyla Diggle."

Felicity relaxed the moment she recognized the brown-haired, blue-eyed woman, "Yes, I know. I've seen a few pictures of you." Suddenly realizing that made her sound like a stalker, Felicity rushed to correct, "I- I work for the Highlander's now, I do PR. My name is Felicity, Felicity Smoak."

As the two shook hands, Lyla couldn't help but smile, the woman was endearing.

"I know, John mentioned you to me." She gestured to the empty seat next to her, the children were at home since it was a school night, "Come on up, it'll be easier to chat if we're side by side."

* * *

Hoping she made the right decision in accepting the offer, Felicity entered _Ernie's_, a shoes-stick-to-the-floor kind of bar about 15 blocks from the Garden.

Felicity had laughed herself silly talking to Lyla Diggle during the game, so when she suggested Felicity join her and her husband for drinks after, Felicity accepted without much thought. While she was hesitant to blur the lines of work and pleasure, she really wasn't worried the Diggle's would be a PR issue.

Felicity had done her homework and thoroughly researched every player, but nothing in John Diggle's file indicated how funny Lyla was - that wasn't expected given her profession. Lyla was a trauma therapist, and a very well-respected one. Yet as they sat at the Garden, Felicity hadn't thought about that, Lyla had put her completely at ease with her quick wit and self-deprecating humor.

So here she was, in a basement level dive bar to meet the Diggle's for a post-game cocktail. Lyla had explained that _Ernie's_ was not a popular spot or a trendy location; in fact, she was amazed it even stayed open. The players often came because no one cared about them there, they could relax. Sure the occasional puck bunny found out about it, but they could always be handled.

The tables were old, scarred, and bolted to the floor as if in anticipation of a fight. The walls were - grey maybe? Sports memorabilia hung scattered throughout but other than that, there was a pool table and what appeared to be an actual juke box. It was definitely not the kind of place she imagined the Diggle's spending time in.

Scanning the dim interior, Felicity spotted Lyla sitting at the bar right away, she was chatting up the bartender like they were old friends. That wasn't surprising now that Felicity had spent time with the engaging woman, Lyla must make friends everywhere.

In contrast, Felicity tended to keep to herself; she had very few people in her life she trusted. She had a best friend and a brother she adored, but sadly, she rarely saw either of them. Yet, here she was, actually looking forward to a night with a couple she barely knew yet already felt comfortable with. It was strange but ... nice.

Sensing her new friend's entrance, Lyla waved her over to sit in one of the many empty stools at the bar. Felicity was glad she opted for casual-wear to the game, jeans and a long sleeve T were just about right for this place.

"The guys should be here soon." Lyla asked, "What would you like to drink?"

'_Guys,' as in plural?_

Felicity wasn't sure what that meant, John Diggle and who else? "Ah, I'll take a Merlot."

Hearing the new patron, the bartender 'hmph'd' as if displeased with her drink choice and set off on his task.

Felicity hoped for nonchalance as she asked, "Who else besides John is coming?"

Inwardly Lyla smiled. "If it was just any game, it might be one or two of them, but since they beat the Devil's, it will be nearly the whole team."

Lyla expelled an unexpected, prolonged sigh before explaining, "They came here four years ago after beating the Devils and then went on a nine game winning streak. Since then, they've come here every time they beat the Devils and sure enough, they always go on a winning streak. Now it's superstition."

Felicity smiled at the exasperated tone Lyla used with the word "superstition." It was well known that hockey players had some seriously weird ones; many professional sports players did, but hockey players took it to a whole new level.

While Felicity wasn't thrilled with the idea of more people, she knew she'd need to meet the other players at some point, so she might as well make the most of it. She'd stay for a brief period of time and then leave, it just wasn't appropriate.

And more than that, it made her uncomfortable.

Lyla watched as Felicity changed right in front of her. At the game she'd gotten the somewhat shy woman to relax, laugh even, but with the mention of other players joining them, it was like a shutter went down.

She gently touched her arm, "Are you okay? You don't look happy."

Felicity felt bad, it wasn't Lyla's fault. "Oh no, I'm fine."

Knowing enough about nonverbal communication to read Felicity was uneasy, Lyla began to apologize. "I'm sorry-"

Both of their heads spun at the sound of the door bursting open. A group of men came collectively through the door, almost falling over each other in their exuberance.

Even if she didn't already know facts about every player on the Highlander's, Felicity would have known this group of men was unusual. They were all wearing suits -expensive ones - to a hole-in-the-wall bar.

They stood out.

The one in the front, all but being shoved toward the bar by the others, was rookie Roy Harper; he'd gotten a hat trick tonight and was currently sporting a Broadway hat as was customary.

"Yo, Mikey!"

Felicity watched as Derek Kraig, supreme party-boy and comedian of the Highlanders hailed the bartender from just over Roy's shoulder.

"Harper here needs a shot" he flicked the rookie's hat, "Actually, make that 3!"

"And a place to change into his stupid hoodie," added a faceless voice coming from the mass of jubilant players behind the embarrassed winger.

"What he doesn't need, are condoms." This came from Oliver Queen, the last of about fifteen men to enter the dive-bar, "He has enough of those."

Felicity watched as the Captain circled to the front of the group to playfully cuff the rookie on his shoulder, a giant grin on his face. Felicity could almost see the 'ping' sparkle off his teeth like in a toothpaste add.

The man was gorgeous.

He wore a well-tailored, dark suit with a crisp white shirt - collar open. His light blue tie hung haphazardly around his neck; he hadn't wasted a second to rid himself of the constraining fabric.

And then, like a magnet, his head turned and his eyes collided with hers.

And held.

Oliver was caught off-guard. He wasn't prepared to see his new handler sitting at the bar, nor was he prepared for how she looked.

Her long blonde hair was down, wavy. Her lips were painted red to match her oh-so-snug-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt. That T was hugging assets he hadn't been able to see under her suit jacket yesterday. Her jeans didn't leave much to the imagination either, in fact, he was relatively certain if she stood, her T wouldn't quite reach that belt she had on. Oliver couldn't fathom how she could walk in those spike heeled boots either - but he could imagine other things.

_Shit._

The last thing he needed was to see this woman in any other way than as a colleague. They'd reached a truce yesterday, he was going to play nice, and she was going to try to keep things simple for him. He actually left their meeting feeling lighter.

Now here he was, talking about condoms in front of her. _Again_.

Felicity watched as he gave her the signature male chin-lift in greeting, she nodded in return ... and then turned to Lyla in casual dismissal. Only that didn't go as planned as Lyla was now kissing her husband in greeting, clearly the two were still in love after ten years. They weren't engaged in some passionate kiss, but it was still...personal.

And awkward for her to watch.

As she started to swivel the other way and take her chances with whoever was nearby, the Diggle's broke their kiss and turned to her. John smiled sheepishly, "Hey Felicity, sorry, good to see you again."

There was something about the man, he was physically enormous yet completely unthreatening and just so easy to be around, "You too, John."

The powerful defender nodded to her wine glass on the bar, "I see you have a drink already, otherwise I'd get you one."

It was clear the players had gathered closer judging by the way she had to raise her voice in reply. "Your wife did the honors, so thank you."

It was silly on her part, but she couldn't bring herself to look. Maybe if she sat still, she'd become invisible.

Oblivious to her discomfort, she felt someone press closer to her from behind, she was thankful the stool had a high back. A male voice, tinged with a Russian accent came from just over her shoulder. "Who's your, friend, Maximus?"

Just like superstitions, the NHL was also riddled with nicknames and Diggle's was an ode to the family man and warrior that Russell Crowe played in The Gladiator.

Air escaped John in a laugh; the Russian's attempt at an introduction was lame. "Andrei, this is Felicity Smoak. Felicity, Andrei Koval." He added with emphasis, "She _works_ with us now, in the PR department."

Andrei was unfazed, and rounded to Felicity's front. _Closely_. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Smoak."

Felicity forced a smile and shook his hand, noting he didn't feel the need to put in his false front tooth tonight. "You too." She added with feigned sweetness, "Will your girlfriend be joining us?"

Having a file on all the players sometimes paid off. Felicity knew Andrei was dating a Victoria's Secret model.

The six-foot wall of muscle's face fell; he looked like a 5 year-old who lost his favorite teddy bear. Swallowing a lump in his throat, his voice hitched. "She broke up with me two weeks ago."

Felicity instantly felt terrible, it was clear the man was sincere. "Oh no, I am so sorry. I-

Oliver was suddenly there, clapping Andrei on the shoulder, "Hey buddy, Kraig's looking for a pool partner, why don't you go join him."

Surprising all of them, the Russian leaned over the bar and nabbed a bottle from behind it, pouring a shot directly in his mouth. Slowly he shuffled off, bottle in hand, doing as his Captain suggested.

This left the four of them. Others lingered nearby, talking amongst themselves.

Felicity blurted, "I feel so bad, maybe I should go apologize."

Oliver waved off her idea, "Don't worry about him. We each take shifts with him."

Before she knew what was happening, Oliver briefly leaned into her space, his chest inches from her eyes as he took the beer the bartender offered his regular without prompting.

_Damn he smelled good._

Returning to stand between she and Diggle, Oliver rested one hand on the back of her stool and asked with a bit of an edge, "So, what brings you here, Felicity?"

She was temporarily fascinated by the way his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed his sip of beer.

Then his tone registered and she responded in kind. "Lyla invited me."

"We had such a great time at the game; I thought it would be fun to have her join us." Lyla added.

Oliver's close-lipped grin was strained as he nodded in response, his eyes hard as they looked idly around the bar - anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

Felicity could take a hint; she put her mostly full wine glass back on the bar. "I'll get going," she stood, "I don't want to intrude on your downtime."

Lyla stared wide-eyed at Oliver, like a mother chastising her son for bad manners.

Oliver stared back.

After too long, Lyla's features fell, turning from anger to sad disappointment.

Oliver winced, he couldn't stand letting Lyla down, she was like a sister to him.

He was such an ass, why did he keep acting this way?

Annoyed at his own behavior, Oliver sidestepped to block Felicity's retreat and apologize...only they smacked into each other, head to head. _Hard. _

Oliver used his free hand to steady her as they each reached to soothe their now throbbing heads.

"God, Felicity, I am so sorry. I meant to apologize, not make things worse."

Felicity could sense his sincerity and wanted to acknowledge the olive branch, she decided to do so by poking fun at herself. "It's okay, stuff like this happens to me all the time."

Oliver's lips twitched, he'd noticed her awkwardness minutes after they'd met and he found her self-awareness amusing. He also appreciated her quick forgiveness.

Seeing his amusement, Felicity teased, "I get why it hurts me, but I thought hockey players were supposed to be tough."

Oliver gestured to the seat she'd just left and hoped to reciprocate her light banter. "At least finish your drink." As she sat, he leaned closer and whispered, "But if you're staying, I may just run back quick and get my helmet."

Felicity couldn't stop her laugh from escaping, even as it caused the throbbing to return.

Engrossed in their own amusement, neither noticed Lyla Diggle's clearly pleased visage, or her husband's don't-get-any-ideas glare in return.

Lyla just patted his cheek.

* * *

The next hour passed quickly, Felicity slowly sipping her wine as the Diggle's playfully teased each other and discussed the game. They really were a fun couple.

Oliver kept drifting in and out of their conversation, spending time with his teammates but always circling back to them. At the moment, he was across the room consoling the sad Russian.

Felicity glanced at her watch, it was late, and she really shouldn't be spending too much time socializing. Thus far she'd managed to stay with the Diggle's and keep herself removed, but she really shouldn't tempt fate.

Just as she began to stand, the bartender put another glass of Merlot in front of her.

She was just about to say she didn't order it when Roy Harper took the empty stool on the other side of her. She glanced nervously to the Diggle's but they had turned to talk to one of John's fellow blue liners, Kevin Aldrich.

Sensing her hesitation, Roy apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to buy you a drink and introduce myself."

Felicity wasn't sure what to be more shocked by, the fact his words weren't slurring given his three shots and beer chaser, or the fact he appeared genuinely sorry, upset even.

"It's okay, Mr. Harper, I appreciate the gesture but I really can't be accepting a drink from you."

The moment she'd used his full name he appeared to pull back.

"You know my name?"

Thinking she might as well get it over with, she explained. "I'm Felicity Smoak. I work for the Highlanders in the Public Relations Department."

Roy flinched at her job assignment, "Listen, I'm really a good guy. I swear people catch things with their cell phones that look bad but are completely innocent."

Her amused disbelief was obvious. "So the shot of you dancing on the bar while women poured vodka down your shirtless torso was," she openly mocked, "innocent?"

Roy had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Okay, that actually happened, but I blame my best-friend from growing up; he was excited I got drafted by the Highlanders."

Felicity pursed her smiling lips and simply nodded.

Roy took a deep breath, "Let's start again. I'm Roy Harper," he stuck out his hand to shake, "And while I have done some less than intelligent things in the past, I swear I don't anymore." He gestured around the bar as if indicating tonight was a good example.

Felicity did her best to appear professional yet kind, "I appreciate your efforts, Roy." She pointed to the drink he'd bought her, "But I really can't mix work with pleasure."

"You're not working right now, you're off the clock."

Felicity hesitantly agreed, "Yes, that's true, however, imagine if someone in here takes a picture of us talking and it makes the morning paper." She shrugged, "I'd lose my job."

Roy scanned the room, "I know everyone in here, that's why we come here. There are no outsiders. Plus, unless we were doing something like...well, let's just say us sitting and talking isn't exciting enough to make the papers."

She had to admit the guy was attractive, and when he turned that million-dollar smile on he was downright hot, but he played for the team. She had to find a way to let him down.

"Harper!"

Both Felicity and Roy turned at the sound of Oliver's approaching voice.

Oliver grinned at Roy, "It's your turn with Andrei."

Roy sighed, his posture deflated. Turning back to Felicity he made a final attempt. "Sorry," his gaze softened as he asked hopefully, "Can we talk another time?"

Before Felicity could answer, Oliver leaned in and whispered in the rookie's ear. Roy's gaze flickered to Felicity before he blushed, nodded, and then simply stood and walked away.

Felicity's brows pulled in confusion, "What did you say to him?"

"Sorry, I got the impression you weren't interested so I sent him away."

"Yes, I mean no." Felicity shook her head as if to clear it, "I wasn't interested and was trying to tell him that but, I'd like to know what you told him."

Oliver leaned one arm on the bar next to her; the other loosely gripped his bottle. "I just reminded him of the no fraternizing policy and that he really couldn't afford any more trouble."

Not entirely sure she believed him, but deciding not to push, Felicity merely nodded.

Then his other words played again in her mind, "How could you tell I wasn't interested?"

Oliver's eyes scanned her body, "You were just really...stiff, you looked uncomfortable."

Felicity wasn't sure why, but the way his eyes just ran the length of her body made her ten times more uncomfortable - but she was not going to show it. Then there was the way he casually leaned on the bar, it brought him closer to her and she could feel his warmth and smell his damn fine cologne again.

Mentally she slapped herself and refocused, a change of topic was warranted. "So I told the organizer for the Gala you'd be there tomorrow night." Assuming he'd be disgruntled she added, "You don't have to stay long, just say a few words, mingle a bit and you can make your exit."

Oliver expressed his agreement, "It's not a problem."

When Felicity saw the request came across her desk for a player or players to attend the Children's Adventure Place fundraiser, she knew it was a no brainer. That was why she originally sought Oliver out in the lounge the day before. After their truce she'd brought up the invitation and he'd surprised her by saying he was already going. Lyla Diggle was on the board and she had _told_ him he'd be going - with affection of course.

"Do you have your speech prepared?" Felicity inquired.

Oliver shook his head, "I don't mind public speaking, I can wing it."

Felicity couldn't hide her horror, "No, no you can't." With annoyance she huffed, "I'll draft something tomorrow and email it to you before the event. You can send me back any revisions and I'll bring the final copy with me to the Gala."

Oliver pushed off the bar, he wasn't sure what pissed him off more.

"So let me get this straight; not only do you think I am an idiot and can't write my own speech, but you feel the need to come babysit me at a _charity event_? What the hell do you think I'd do there?"

Felicity couldn't help but notice Oliver's raised voice drew a few curious stares, including the Diggle's.

She laughed loudly as if it was some kind of inside joke between them and Oliver was playacting. Through gritted teeth she ordered, "Lower your voice, everyone is staring."

Belatedly Oliver looked around and noticed she was right, he feigned a laugh himself like it was all a joke before gently taking Felicity by the arm and guiding_,_ _pulling_, her to a more isolated corner.

Again neither noticed the Diggle's interchange.

John knew his friend and that little spat was real. He started after the duo to play peacemaker but his wife put a restraining hand on his arm and shook her head. She wanted to see how this played out but also needed his help distracting others from focusing on the pair in the corner.

With the fake smile still painted on her face, Felicity bit off, "I never said you were an idiot, it is part of my job to draft these speeches - or at the very least edit the ones you all write yourselves."

She inched closer, "And contrary to what you think, the world does not revolve around you, Oliver. I sent in my RSVP three weeks ago, long before I was assigned to you. I do have a life outside of work, you know."

He had problems.

For some reason he had the habit of becoming a complete asshole around this woman, and for another, with her this close, he couldn't keep track of what she was saying.

When she stood he'd discovered his early assumptions were right, her shirt didn't quite touch her jeans and a ribbon of her soft-looking skin was left exposed.

The tips of his fingers itched to trace what he knew would be it's silky surface.

Her eyes were a brilliant blue and they shimmered with anger, her lips looked so damn full, never mind the way her chest was rising and falling with the exertion of her frustrated breaths.

She was so close...

"I'll send you a draft in the morning. Look for it, Oliver."

He didn't have time to gather his thoughts before she was gone. She'd grabbed her coat, said a terse goodbye to the Diggle's, and left.

_Shit._

Oliver was still staring at the door she'd left through when the Diggle's approached.

"That went well." John remarked dryly.

"Very smooth, Oliver." Lyla added.

He turned his gaze to them, "I seem to piss her off regularly."

The couple nodded in unison.

"This is going to be a difficult working relationship."

Lyla smirked, "Maybe you should consider the idea that it could be more than just work?"

Oliver's response was quick and irritated, "What are you talking about, Lyla? She's an employee of the organization and is temporarily assigned to _me_. We work together, that's it."

Lyla feigned agreement but her words contradicted, "If you say so. Though I couldn't help but notice your eyes tracked her all night, constantly checking in on who she talked to. And what exactly did you tell Roy to make him go away?"

Oliver cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She wasn't done, "And I am pretty sure during that last exchange, I saw you staring at her...assets."

Oliver glared at John for help. He merely held up his hands as if to say there was nothing he could do. It didn't help Oliver's irritation that his best friend was laughing as well.

The Captain expelled a frustrated breath, "Yes, she's attractive, Lyla, I'll admit that. But so are a million other women that _don't_ work for the organization. I don't play where I work, and vice versa."

The emphatic way Oliver uttered those words let Lyla know now was not the time to push, so she acquiesced, nodding as if the subject was closed and she believed him.

Oliver turned on his heel and rejoined his fellow players, doing his best to put aside Lyla's words but struggling.

John wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders as they watched their friend, he already knew the answer but asked anyway. "This is going to get interesting, isn't it?"

Lyla affirmed, "I do believe it is."

John smiled. "If I know Oliver like I think I do, he's pissed he's attracted to her and even more pissed she's got him off balance."

Lyla smiled. This Gala was going to be fascinating.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:

_Thanks again to all of you reading and those leaving reviews, I truly appreciate it! So excited the show is back in a few days, I've missed it :). Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Let the drama begin..._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Moira Queen had enough of her son's quiet brooding.

"I can see your mind working, Oliver. What is going on?"

With a prolonged inhalation of breath, Oliver pulled his unfocused gaze from the endless blur of city lights outside the back window of their chauffeured car. Turning to his mother, he gently covered her hand with his and exhaled. "Just thinking."

Rather than a limo as his mother suggested, Oliver opted for a generic car service to bring them both to the Gala. His invitation included a 'plus one,' and he decided his Mom would fit the bill. Moira Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated, was a fixture at events like these. Oliver knew he could ask her on short notice and she'd have a plethora of 'black tie required' dresses in her closet. He also knew she'd be sitting home alone otherwise; Walter was out of town meeting with a potential new investor for the Highlanders.

Maternal instinct was nothing to sneeze at, and Moira's was telling her to pry a little. "I can tell that, Oliver." She dipped her head, trying to catch the attention of his gaze. "But can you elaborate?"

His sigh could have set records.

"I was reviewing the speech for tonight that Feli-" he grimaced, "that the PR person sent me, and it just made me think about how I grew up."

Moira wasn't entirely sure where to start, Felicity Smoak, or Oliver's obvious guilt over his wealth - something he's struggled with for as long as she could remember. He didn't get A's and B's at Yale because he was a Queen, nor did he get to skip all of those 5am games and practices growing up. He did everything everyone else did, but he still felt 'different.'

Moira rubbed his hand, "I wish there was something I could say, you've always beaten yourself up for this - even if I disagreed. You've worked hard for everything you've ever gotten."

Oliver rolled his eyes, chuckling lovingly at his mother's predictable response. He could almost hear her internal dialogue about his grades at Yale and how hard he worked at hockey - she'd just leave out the parts about his tutors and his custom-made hockey gear.

"Sorry, mother, didn't mean to start the night morose."

Not knowing how to get through to her son on this topic, one that had surfaced many times in his life, Moira chose to tackle something else.

She took a deep breath, preparing for his irritation, "Walter told me, Oliver," she paused, making sure he was really listening, "I know about Felicity Smoak."

Oliver's eyes narrowed.

Moira jumped to defend, "Don't be mad at him, he's in a tough position owning the team and... being with me."

Oliver gave yet another audible sigh as his free hand scrubbed his face, he knew this was true.

Ever since his father had died, Oliver only wanted the best for his mother - and that included the men she dated. He'd expect her partner to trust her with everything, even his work issues; it just sucked that that man happened to be his employer.

Reluctantly Oliver responded, "I get it, I do." He shook his head in self-directed frustration, "I just wish the whole thing wasn't necessary."

"I know." She braced herself again, wondering how far she could push. "I love you Oliver, but you haven't been yourself. Did Laurel really affect you that deeply?"

He laughed lightly and shook his head, "You know, I wish I could say she did. I really thought she was the one. But when I look back, I was deluding myself, she never was." He returned to staring idly out the window. "I have no idea why I've been so stupid."

Having no answer to that herself, Moira tried to move forward rather than speculate on the past. "Well it has only been a brief period. As long as you keep it together from here on out, your PR shadow should be short term."

Oliver gave a disbelieving grunt. "I hope so; I seem to piss the woman off every time I see her. I think she'll be happy to be done with me."

Moira startled, "Really? I always thought of her as meek."

Oliver's head whipped back, his gazed honed in on his mother. "You know her?"

Moira jostled her head side to side, "Not really, I just knew her when she was a child - and so did you, not that either of you would remember. She and her family lived by us until her mother died. Her father took her to Texas when she was six."

Something distasteful began to stir in Oliver's stomach; he knew only one family that fit that description. "Texas?"

Moira looked surprised, "Yes. Didn't Walter tell you? She's Senator Markham's daughter. That's how Walter heard about her."

* * *

Oliver sipped the ice cool water he'd gotten from the top-shelf bar, passing on the alcohol since he had a speech to give - a speech prepared by Senator Markham's daughter.

_How the hell had Walter not told him that?_

Obviously the woman had changed her last name. On the way here, his mother informed him Smoak was the maiden name of Felicity's mother. He also learned his own mother felt the same way about Senator Markham as he did - the guy was a dick.

Oliver had never told his mother, but about six years ago he had a run in with the Senator.

At one of his mother's various fundraising events held in their home, he'd overheard the ignorant ass talking about Moira to his cronies. The blowhard had been in town for some event at the UN and decided to "swing by" their party. The fool had too much to drink and in graphic detail, told his cronies what he wanted to do with his widowed hostess. Naturally offended on his mother's behalf, but not wanting to upset her party, Oliver waited until he had the man alone and confronted him - with his fist.

The old bastard blubbered about pressing charges until Oliver bluffed and said he had witnesses to the man's earlier crass remarks about his mother. Oliver implied his witnesses would be more than happy to go to the press with the Senator's vulgar comments. It was a stalemate. Choosing the wiser path, the Senator decided to leave and slunk out the kitchen entrance with a bloody nose.

That was the last Oliver had heard of the man until recent news reports rumored the Senator would be moving back to New York after finishing his term in Texas. Some speculated he wanted to run for Governor here, others said he wanted to retire in his deceased wife's home state. Either way, Oliver wished he'd stay the hell away.

And now he finds out the man's daughter is his handler. What shit luck. Though, if his mother's speculation was right, she may feel the same way about her father as they did. Granted that was merely a guess because she'd changed her name. Maybe she just didn't want to be linked to a Senator? Or she missed her mother? Who the hell knew.

But he was going to find out.

Oliver had his security head looking into her; he'd called him shortly after leaving the player's lounge the other day. While the answers he sought might take time, he could try to get a few on his own while he waited. Oliver needed to know for certain this woman was truly on his side and not an extension of her father. Though his gut was telling him his mother was right, Felicity seemed absolutely nothing like her father - and his gut was rarely wrong.

Pulled from his thoughts by his vibrating phone, Oliver removed it from his pocket. The woman must have a sixth sense; it was a text from Felicity.

"_I'll be there in five minutes; do you have the final draft?"_

"_Yes, all set. Looks good."_

"_Great. I got an advance list of the seating assignments; you and your date are at table 12."_

He hadn't even seen her and was already annoyed. He was more than capable of figuring this out himself.

"_Yes, Felicity, I know. I've been able to read since I was 6 and figured it out all by myself. And you'll be happy to know my Mom's my date."_

"_No need to be cranky, I was just trying to be helpful. And by any chance did you hear who else was SUPPOSED to be at your table? No? In that case I will tell you, aside from the Diggle's, the clueless person making the seating chart put you with Malcolm Merlin. You might know him; you beat his team last night and...well...you relieved yourself on his tires a few weeks ago."_

"_That's not funny."_

"_It wasn't a joke, trust me; when I am making one, I am very funny. You'll be happy to know I did some maneuvering and he's now sitting with Slade Wilson and Roy Harper is sitting with you. Don't complain. You're welcome."_

She was kind of funny.

"_And where will you be sitting?"_

"_Close enough to keep an eye on you...be afraid, be very afraid."_

Oliver chuckled.

"Is your phone that amusing?"

Oliver turned to see Lyla approaching. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking a step back to admire her floor-length formfitting black dress; he gave an appreciative whistle.

"Not so bad yourself, handsome." She tugged playfully on one side of his bow tie. She gestured to the phone he was still holding, "What had you smiling."

Oliver tucked his phone back in his pocket; manners were drilled into him by his mother. "Just a text from Felicity."

Lyla tried to bite back her smile, she wasn't successful.

Remembering her words from the night before, Oliver shook his head, "Do not get any ideas, Lyla."

Lyla nodded firmly and changed the subject. She knew she needed to take baby steps with him. "Where's your Mom?"

Oliver gestured to the far corner of the elaborately decorated grand ball room, just next to the string quartet whose light music soothed the rough edges of cocktail hour chatter. "She has a slew of friends here, hence why she agreed to be my date."

Lyla scanned the well-appointed room, locating Moira before taking in the opulence of the fundraiser. Pictures of this night would surely grace a few papers and magazines, reporters were peppered throughout the room just as celebrities and athletes were. The ballroom had been decorated with a single donation by a benefactor, but it could have easily competed with a high-end Hollywood gala.

"That's good, she'll have fun. So who are we-" Lyla stopped abruptly.

Oliver turned to look at Lyla, wondering why she quieted. He followed her gaze and saw the man she was staring at.

"Yeah, that guy isn't my favorite either. I didn't vote for him."

Refocusing on their conversation, Lyla responded, "I did. I wish now I didn't, but I did. I wonder if Felicity knows he's going to be here."

Oliver's brow quirked, "Felicity? Why would she care?"

Lyla had the same look of surprise on her face as his mother did earlier. "Didn't you know? She used to work for Congressman Blood, she quit at the height of his campaign."

It was Oliver's turn to be surprised, and irritated. "How is it you and my mother know more about this woman than I do?" He added incredulously, "And she's working with me!"

Lyla patted his arm patronizingly, "Because we're women, far superior beings."

John joined them with a drink in hand for his wife. "What are we talking about?"

Oliver asked, "Did you know Felicity worked for Congressman Blood?"

He nodded as if it was old news.

"And you didn't think I should know?"

John's smile was nearly indiscernible, "Why would you care? Do you keep a master list of some kind? You know who everyone in the organization worked for before us?"

"That's not the same and you know it. She was hired to work with me."

John just shrugged and inclined his head toward Sebastian Blood who was currently shaking hands with everyone he saw. "I wonder why she quit though, seems like it would be a good gig working for a Congressman."

Yet another piece to the Felicity puzzle.

Just as Oliver tried to examine some of those pieces - in particular her political affiliations - the woman in question entered through the ballroom doors.

She was stunning.

One shoulder bared, the other draped by the cobalt blue fabric that angled across her chest and did some kind of criss cross thing at her waist before it met the flowing bottom half of her dress. Her hair was partially pulled back, exposing her neck which was adorned with sparkling stones of some kind that matched the ones dangling from her ears.

Unconsciously, Oliver started toward her, she hadn't seen them yet.

Her eyes were painted smoky but not too much, he hated that; her lips a light pink. She looked exquisite.

And then suddenly very, very angry.

Before Oliver reached her, he saw her take off.

She came to a halt next to a woman who had been part of the Congressman's entourage but had kept herself off to the side. The two engaged in what looked to be a heated conversation - at least Felicity looked heated, the other woman looked apologetic.

"Lyla will find out what's going on."

Oliver hadn't noticed John rejoin him, but right then he saw Lyla gently glide toward Felicity, stopping to talk to someone else close by.

"Is she eavesdropping?"

"Of course she is." John answered matter of fact.

"Felicity looks seriously ticked off."

John muttered his agreement and then added, "She also looks beautiful."

She did, but Oliver was hesitant to say that to anyone.

There was no time for further discussion as the Emcee for the night came over the speakers and the string quartet quieted. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats."

With their eyes still following Felicity, Oliver and John hesitantly headed toward their seats, clear across the grand ball room.

When they reached their table, Lyla was shortly behind them and reported quickly before any others could join them. "All I heard was something about the Congressman changed plans last minute; he wasn't supposed to be here tonight. It seemed like Felicity confirmed this with the woman she was talking to, hence why she was angry."

They were all processing this tidbit when Oliver shook his head to clear it, he barely knew the woman and needed to stay out of it. "They obviously must not get along but it really isn't any of our business."

He grabbed the rolls in front of him, oblivious to the looks exchanged between the Diggle's.

As he began to spread his butter, his mother approached.

"Ollie, do you mind if I sit at a different table? I ran into Isabel Rochev from Queen Consolidated's accounting department. She's one of three people gunning to be our next CFO and I want to get to know her a bit."

Oliver smiled, use to his mother's endless social/business meetings. "No, that's fine. But save me a dance later."

With an affectionate squeeze, Moira left to join a table nearby.

Drink in hand; Roy Harper joined them with a graceless flop into the chair next to John, leaving four empty seats between him and Oliver. "What's with the extra chairs? Where's your date, Cap?"

Oliver noted the empty chair next to Roy, "Somewhere with yours?"

The rookie smiled, "I was a last minute addition to this party, I didn't have time."

Oliver just shook his head and grinned, he was getting used to the kid.

That explained two of the empty chairs, someone else must be joining them. Just as the thought went through his mind, a woman approached their table.

Her dress was white, her body - drool worthy, but her clinging dress didn't leave much to the imagination and that left a bit of a sour taste in Oliver's mouth, he preferred some intrigue.

She also looked really familiar.

"Are any of these seats taken?" The curvaceous brunette asked.

Automatically all three men started to stand, manners not just bred into Oliver.

"No, none." Oliver replied graciously, indicating she could take any of the seats as they all returned to theirs.

The woman took an isolated one, leaving chairs between both her and Oliver, and her and Roy.

John stood, waving to a nearby server.

Politely John asked their new addition, "Is anyone joining you?"

She shook her head.

As the wait staff approached, John asked, "Can we have a few of these chairs removed," he gestured to the one empty next to Oliver, "Maybe just leave one extra in case Mrs. Queen comes back to join us."

His request was immediately granted and the table guests began shifting their chairs and place settings, making it less awkward for everyone.

Their newest guest, now seated next to Roy, introduced herself to the table. "Hi, I'm Haley."

Roy snapped his fingers as if suddenly realizing something, "Haley, Haley Reynolds, right? You're on that crime show."

She blushed, "Yes, that's right. I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before though. You are?"

Roy's grin broadened, "I'm Roy, Roy Harper."

"Nice to meet you, Roy."

She glanced at the rest of the table's occupants, in particular John and Oliver, "Please don't think I am rude, but you both look familiar and I can't quite figure it out."

John smiled politely, "No worries there, we wouldn't expect you to. I'm John Diggle, this is my beautiful wife, Lyla."

Both women nodded their greeting.

Oliver extended his hand over the empty chair between them and added, "I'm Oliver Queen."

Recognition set in, "Hockey players, right? Highlanders?"

Roy chimed in, licking his wounds that she hadn't recognized him. "Yep, that's us. We all play for the Highlanders."

Before conversation could go any further, three wait staff arrived with salads, placing one in front of each of them with what seemed like coordinated dance moves.

The next half hour progressed with pleasantries between bites of salad as the quartet now played light dinner music.

The Diggle's noticed Oliver's gaze straying from the table from time to time, glancing around the room. He'd nodded to Slade Wilson at one point who mouthed "you're welcome" in return. The coach was clearly keeping Malcolm Merlin entertained and away from Oliver.

Lyla leaned closer to Oliver and whispered, "She's over there."

Oliver's eyes followed the direction Lyla's fork pointed but didn't see anything; he then leaned a bit closer to Lyla and saw who she was referring to. Felicity was sitting quietly at a table, head down and seemingly not talking to any of her fellow partygoers.

He was just about to tell Lyla she was out of her mind when he saw the Congressman approach Felicity from behind. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders as if he had some kind of right. Oliver watched as Felicity startled, nearly jumped out of her skin and then froze; her skin paled.

That's all he needed to see. He had at least one answer, she definitely did not like the man and actually looked...afraid.

Tossing his napkin on the table, Oliver took ground eating steps toward her table, slowing himself just before arriving and painting an overly friendly smile on his face. "Sorry Congressmen Blood, just wanted to stop and introduce myself before grabbing Felicity. I'm Oliver, Oliver Queen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Taken by surprise, the Congressman had no idea Oliver was there until one of his hands was forcibly removed from Felicity's shoulder to be shaken - firmly. The Congressman's eyes squinted, not quite sure the other man was being sincere. There was a smile on his face but his eyes appeared hard.

"Nice to meet you as well." Wanting to appear dominant in case his guess was right, Sebastian turned to fully face Oliver and took his other hand from Felicity in the process.

He stood straighter. "You're Captain Ollie, right? Winger for the Highlanders?"

Oliver noted he deliberately used the nickname the tabloid press had for him. He was clearly trying to be condescending.

Oliver winked as if unperturbed...and to return the condescension. "Yep, that's me."

Dismissing the asshole, Oliver took Felicity's hand from the table, noticing it trembled when he did so. She was frightened.

What the hell had happened between these two?

Oliver pulled her to stand, forcing the Congressman to take a step back or get hit by the chair. Completely ignoring the red-faced man, Oliver apologized to Felicity. "I'm sorry, I have no idea how you ended up over here." He pointed to the table the Diggle's were now watching raptly from, "We're all over there. See, your seat is open."

As if she read his lips, Lyla waved and then gestured to the empty seat next to Oliver's.

Turning back to face Felicity, Oliver made a show of looking her over head to foot before giving her his 1000-watt smile. "You look absolutely beautiful tonight, like always."

Ignoring the shock in her eyes, he leaned in and placed a kiss to her cheek like it was something he did often.

Using her hand to gently pull her to his opposite side, Oliver strategically placed himself between Felicity and the Congressman. Now standing side by side, he rested his hand on the small of what he discovered was Felicity's entirely exposed back. Not allowing himself to be distracted by the amazingly luxurious, silk feeling of her skin, Oliver muttered his apologies to the group at her table for stealing Felicity from them.

Wasting no further time, he laced his fingers through hers and began walking them back to his table. Felicity's steps faltered as she reached back to grab her handbag but she recovered quickly, matching Oliver's retreating steps.

Once seated at Oliver's table, Felicity was thankful the Emcee started speaking, it would mask the whispered conversation she wanted to have with Oliver. She asked through barely moving lips. "Would you like to tell me what the hell that was about?"

Oliver sipped his water, needing to cool his temper after the exchange with the Congressman. He spoke softly to Felicity, "You seemed distressed, I wanted to help."

Felicity sighed, she knew his intentions were probably good, but he had no idea what he'd done. She'd managed to avoid the Congressman for two months and this probably ruined that temporary peace. "I doubt that helped, you just poked a sleeping bear."

Oliver's gaze swung to hers, his brows pulled in concentration.

Roy, feeling left out and having no idea what happened since his back had been to the exchange interjected. "Hey Felicity, it's great to see you."

He was going to add how hot she looked - with more class than that - but didn't want to ruin his chances with Haley. Roy also knew after Oliver's tidbit of information last night, the flirtation would be wasted on her.

Felicity reluctantly directed her attention to Roy, not done with the conversation she wanted to have with Oliver, but knowing pleasantries were required. "Good to see you too, Roy." She looked to Haley with a forced smile, "Is this your date?"

Both seemed to sputter, Roy taking the lead, "Oh no, we all just met Haley tonight. You've probably seen her on TV."

The Emcee was working the audience and getting laughs, making it difficult to carry on any conversation which helped Felicity, she wasn't much interested in talking right then. She was shaky after the incident with Sebastian; and what _really _annoyed her - she still felt the heat of Oliver's hand on her back even though it hadn't been there for minutes now.

When Felicity didn't respond to Roy, Haley chimed in to clarify. "Any woman would be lucky to be Roy's date but I'm not," she added casually, "I actually prefer women."

Roy's gaze flew to Haley, he then gestured between she and Felicity before he threw up his hands. "What are the chances?" He laughed, "I have no luck!"

Felicity cocked her head to the side, slightly confused. _What did Roy mean?_

Knowing where this was about to go and starting to feel some panic, Oliver tried to switch topics. "I think I'm about to be introduced."

Which was true, the Emcee was reading off his statistics from this season.

Oliver questioned Felicity, "Any last minute advice?"

She was completely confused. She'd just had her first run in with Sebastian since she fled, Oliver had outright flirted with her and implied to Sebastian they had a relationship of some kind, and as if that wasn't distracting enough, Roy was trying to communicate something she didn't get.

Apparently Haley was the only one the conversation was making sense too, she had understood Roy perfectly. She turned to Felicity, "You're gay as well?"

Roy nodded happily, shifting gears thinking he may as well be a match maker if he couldn't have either of the women himself.

Felicity shook her head, "Ah-sorry, no."

"You're not?!" Roy sounded shocked.

Felicity addressed him, "No, why did you think I was?"

Roy looked accusingly at Oliver, "Last night, you said -"

"_Please welcome our keynote speaker, Oliver Queen!"_

All eyes at the table were now directed at Oliver, and thankfully so were the entire room's as the spotlight hit him.

Grateful for his reprieve, Oliver pointed to the podium, "Sorry, gotta go."

* * *

Muttering to herself, Felicity made her way to the ladies room. While she wanted to personally strangle Oliver, he did give a fantastic speech.

Once she had gotten over her seething rage at his antics the past two nights, she started to actually listen to him and was impressed. He'd taken what she'd written and made it better - not that she'd tell him. While he had stuck to the script they had developed, he made it much more personable with his delivery. Oliver had been humble, grateful, funny, and inspiring.

If she hadn't had a hand in his success tonight, she would have thrown up in her mouth at how perfect he was.

Making her way out of the ballroom into the facility's gleaming, two-story marble grand vestibule, she continued mumbling her irritation before eventually crossing through the mouth of the corridor that led to the bathrooms. Distracted by her own thoughts, she didn't hear any footsteps behind her, she should have known better.

"Are you fucking him?"

Felicity froze, knowing and hating that voice.

Swallowing the fear that rose in her, Felicity pulled herself together. They were in public, he wouldn't take any risks here. Slowly she turned to face him. "Really, Sebastian? You want to do this now?"

His humorless laugh mocked, "Like you care. You all but lifted your skirt like a dog in heat for Queen at the table. Don't pretend you have class now."

Scanning to be certain no one else was nearby, Felicity bit back. "What happens or doesn't happen between me and any other man is absolutely none of your business."

Sebastian quickly closed the distance between them, crowding Felicity against the wall as he all but spit, "Yes it is. It was before, and it still is now. You. Are. Mine."

To make his point, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing it with enough force she nearly yelled.

"You can think you are free, little girl, but you're not. You are mine and in time," he lowered his voice in a pathetic attempt to appear civilized, "you will realize it too and come back."

"You are insane, I _hate_ you."

He loosened his grip on her hand but pushed his body into hers, forcing her up on her toes as he pinned her against the wall. "There was a time that wasn't true, Felicity; you used to worship me."

Felicity's teeth clenched, hating there was truth in those words and hating even more that she'd been so deceived. "Those days are _long_ gone, Sebastian. Get your hands off of me or -"

"Or what, Felicity?" Sebastian mocked.

Neither had seen him approach, but Oliver had heard more than enough.

His voice was flat, cold, and laced with an eerie calm. "Or I will hurt you...and I will do it in ways you've never imagined."

Sebastian instantly pulled back from Felicity to face his new threat, making her body slump a bit as it slid back down the wall.

He prowled toward Oliver. "What are you going to do, Queen? Cross check me?"

Oliver's posture was deceptively calm, hands in his pockets; but his grin was predatory. "Why don't we step outside and find out?"

"No, Oliver, please. He isn't worth it."

Oliver heard Felicity's words, but he was fixated on Sebastian and knew what he was doing. Ironically he'd learned this lesson years ago with Felicity's father. He just needed the asshole a few steps closer so he'd join him in the main vestibule.

Sebastian briefly looked back over his shoulder at Felicity, his expression promising future retribution. He then closed the distance between him and Oliver. "Enjoy her now, Queen. She'll get bored of you shortly and move on."

Oliver winked and gave his best arrogant smile. "Maybe you just sucked in bed."

Sebastian's face reddened, he shoved Oliver in the chest, sending him back a few feet. "You can have the whore."

It all happened too quick. Felicity could do nothing to stop it, even as she screamed, "Nooooo!"

_Sebastian's body guards exited the ballroom into the vestibule ... followed by a camera man from the Daily News._

_Oliver regained his balance and swung - his fist making brutal, bone crushing contact with Sebastian's face..._

_The flash went off._.


End file.
